


Show Me Your Scars (And I Won't Walk Away)

by queenwakeupslayrepeat (twilight_moon09)



Series: Life Served Us Lemons (But We Made Lemonade) [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - The French Mistake, Arguing, Chuck is God, Dean Blames Himself, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Female Character of Color, Fluff and Angst, God Ships It, Past Infidelity, Porn with Feelings, Relationship Discussions, Self-Esteem Issues, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-01-11 00:32:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12311103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilight_moon09/pseuds/queenwakeupslayrepeat
Summary: Both couples have agreed to spend seven days alone together in an attempt to finally work through their issues and rebuild the foundation necessary for them to move forward. However, none of them knew how taxing the emotional pain of finally confronting the issues they wasted so much time avoiding would be. Not to mention, some divine intervention reveals the dire importance of them rebuilding those sandcastles that washed away. They knew when they agreed that the task they faced wouldn't be fixed in an instant...after all, Rome wasn't built in one day and it took God six days to create the Heavens and the Earth.





	1. Day One: Dean

**Author's Note:**

> Voila! And we're back for Part Two! I hope all of you are still tuned into your coconut radios! Lol. Please buckle up and get your tissues ready. Time to drop the socks and kick off the crocs...we're about to get wet on this ride. I admit, this one got wayyy too sweet at the end for my tastes, but that's the point right? We taste the sweet so when we're forced taste the bitter, we appreciate the sweet that much more. I guess we'll see!

**DAY ONE: DEAN**

 

Dean woke the next morning feeling more rested than he’d felt in weeks. He stretched lazily, wondering about the loud banging he could hear coming from downstairs. He looked to the other side of the bed, noting the empty messy sheets meaning he’d woken alone. But he was certain he hadn’t fallen asleep that way, he remembered drifting off with Bianca finally in his arms, curled as tightly against him as her bump would allow. So why wasn’t she here now? And what the hell was she doing downstairs?

 

He went in the bathroom to relieve himself, noting the time on the clock on the wall. It was 6 in the morning. What the hell was she doing up?

 

He slowly made his way down the steps, and what he found waiting in the living room confused him. There were boxes everywhere, and the room was in complete disarray. He finally saw Bianca, and she was rushing around the room mumbling to herself as she packed things. Her hair was a curly mess all over her head and she was still in her pajamas, which Dean would’ve considered adorable had he not seen the frantic look in her eyes. It was a minute before she finally saw him standing there.

 

“Oh good, you’re up…do you think my sister would like these?” She asked, holding up one of the silver throw pillows from the couch. He opened his mouth to speak but she beat him to it, continuing the conversation she was holding with herself in her mind. “Of course not, Celeste’s couch is orange, what the hell would she want these pillows for. Maybe your sister might want them? I think her couch is grey now…”

She continued fluttering around the room, and Dean started to approach her slowly. “Baby…what are you doing?” He spoke calmly and softly, like he was speaking to a spooked animal.

“What? Oh, just doing a little cleaning. Redecorating, if I’m being honest. I mean, why not get some new furniture in here, it’s time right? We’ve had this stuff for a while, we should switch it up for a change. Can you put that portrait in the garage, I think I’m going to have it moved to storage…” She trailed off, gesturing in the general direction of the large portrait of their family that used to hang over the fireplace. Dean doesn’t even want to think about how she got it down.

“Bianca, how long have you been up? It’s six in the morning…” He asked, genuinely worried. She waved him off like it wasn’t a big deal. “I’ve been up since 3…couldn’t sleep so I came down here for a late snack and once I started I couldn’t stop.” She just shrugged.

“Baby,” He finally stood in front of her and gently grabbed her hands. They were shaking. “Baby, slow down and talk to me. What’s going on?” He looked deep in her eyes, concern coloring his face.

She held his gaze for a second, but looked away before he could catch her eyes watering. She turned her back to him, willing her voice to stay steady as she returned to the task at hand. “I already told you, I couldn’t sleep…so I figured since I was up I might as well be productive.”

She put up a good front, but Dean wasn’t having it. “Baby, stop. Come here,” He pulled her into him, wrapping her in a tight embrace as she finally allowed her tears to fall into his chest. He slowly backed them towards the couch and when he was about to sit them down to talk, she jumped away.

“No!” She yelled, startling him. “I’m sorry, I…” She closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath. “I’m not sitting there.”

Dean looked down at the couch confused, but didn’t ask.

She slowly took a seat down in the center of the floor, finally looking at the mess she’d created with all the boxes and junk littering the room. He sat down across from her, and took her hands in his.

“Bianca…baby you’re scaring me. Please talk to me.” He begged.

“I just…” Her breath started hitching with her tears. Her face was flush and her eyes were swollen and red from crying. “I couldn’t sleep because my brain just would not shut up. You know how your body wants to rest, but your subconscious keeps going a mile a minute? I thought some ice cream would help me feel better, but it didn’t. No matter what I tried, that little voice inside my head would not shut up.” She said grimly.

“What were you thinking about?” He asked, already dreading the answer.

“That none of this stuff is mine anymore.” She answered bitterly.

“Like that couch, I know it’s my couch, hell, I picked it out…but it doesn’t feel like it’s mine anymore. It started in the kitchen, after I sat at the island and at my ice cream, I realized I could be eating on a surface that you fucked her on. I felt so sick, that I wiped it down with bleach. I cleaned that _entire_ kitchen, from top to bottom, with bleach, and it still didn’t make me feel better.”

Dean felt sick to his own stomach, and now he realized where the bleach smell was coming from.

“I walked in here and I just kept replaying everything she said to me in my head.” She struggled to stand so he helped her up and watched as she walked over to the couch. “She knew what color my couch was, she knew about that picture over the fireplace, she described it all! She’d been in here countless times without me knowing it! Who’s to say where she’s been?” She started picking up random things and throwing them across the room.  “You probably had her on this couch! On those dining chairs! In my closet, on our balcony!” She stormed off into the kitchen and Dean followed behind her.

“Bianca, please calm down! Baby! Stop!” He called after her, but she was on a mission. She walked straight to the cabinets mounted above the island and opened the doors. “SHE’S PROBABLY USED MY DISHES, RIGHT? PUT HER MOUTH ON MY WINE GLASSES, WRAPPED HER LIPS AROUND MY SILVERWARE!!!” She yelled, smashing the plates on floor in anger.

“BIANCA! STOP, YOU’RE GONNA HURT YOURSELF!” Dean screamed, panicking about all the broken glass surrounding her bare feet.  She screamed now, tears streaming down her face. “MY DISHES, MY FURNITURE, MY SOAP, MY CLOTHES, MY PERFUME, SHE GOT TO HAVE ALL OF IT AND I JUST, I REALIZED…” She sunk to the floor in tears again, sobbing against the dishwasher. “It has to go, all of it. It has to go.” She was having a hard time catching her breath through her tears.

Dean was in front of her in an instant, and placed both hands on either side of her face to get her to finally focus on him.

“B I need you to listen to me, ok? Just breathe with me! Match your breathing with mine, just like that…breathe.” He repeated, encouraging her to take steady long breaths.

When her breathing was finally back under control, she finally looked at him with some clarity in her eyes.

“Jay?” She asked quietly, touching his face.

“It’s okay, baby. Come on…let’s get you to bed.” He lifted her into his arms, uncaring of the broken glass on the floor. She buried her face in his chest as he carried her up the stairs, and placed her back on her side of the bed. When he tucked the covers in around her, she was already sleeping.

He went back downstairs and began to clean up the mess that had been made.

 

He threw on some sweats, and got to work. His first thought was to continue what she’d started, and to pack up anything that might have to do with Jensen’s time with Cindy. He realized he would have to try and put himself in Jensen’s mindset, which he realized might not be too different from his own. He literally asked himself, ‘If I were having an affair behind my wife’s back and brought the girl home, where would I do her?’ He wasn’t very proud of all the things he could come up with.

Before he knew it, he’d moved the three luxury vehicles they kept in the garage to the driveway to make room in the garage for all the things they’d be selling or donating. He felt guilty when he realized just how much this was affecting Bianca and their lives, even though he knew he didn’t actually do anything wrong himself.

Around 11 he’d ran back upstairs to wake Bianca up.

“Babe?” He spoke softly, gently running a hand along her back. When she stirred, she blinked at him with a sheepish smile on her face. “I did something crazy last night, didn’t I?”

“More like this morning.” He smirked at her. “But you had every right. I need you to get up and get dressed, I made you breakfast and the movers will be here in an hour.”

“Movers?” She asked sleepily, rubbing her eyes.

“I guess you’ll find out when you come downstairs.” He called over his shoulder, leaving her to get dressed.

By the time she was finishing up her breakfast, the movers had shown up and started loading up their truck. “You wanna tell me what’s going on now?” She hip-checked Dean, who had been overseeing the move.

He looked at her and put an arm around her shoulders as she wrapped her arms around his waist. “I think you were right, it’s time for a change. It started with the stuff in the bedroom but it wasn’t enough. We needed a clean slate. They’re taking everything that has a red sticker on it.”

She looked around in confusion. “But Jay…almost everything has a red sticker on it.”

He just chuckled. “Yep.” He said, popping the ‘p’.

By the time the movers were gone the sun was setting, and almost the entire house was bare save for Dallas’ room, the nursery, and their bedroom.

“Well Mr. Ackles…you’ve succeeded in getting rid of almost everything we own, we don’t even have a table to eat at or plates to eat off of. What now?”

“Now? Now’s the best part!” He answered happily. The Chinese takeout he’d ordered for them arrived at the front door, and he tipped the community security guard that delivered it. He laid out a few comforters and quilts in the middle of the floor, and then put the food down on it.

“I figured this could be a whole new adventure for us. I realized we never really had that newlywed couple buying their first home moment, like in the movies the first time around. So, here we are. A new house, a baby on the way, with no furniture to eat on and no dishes to cook with. We are, officially, new-newlyweds.” He announced grandly, holding his arms open wide with a smile on his face.

She couldn’t fight the huge smile on her own face at his cheesiness, and finally laughed. “You’re a cornball.”

“Yeah, but I’m your cornball.” He said, walking over to her. “So what do you think? That expensive projector I bought, I set it up so it projects above the fireplace. I was thinking we could watch Empire Strikes back…or I could hook up my laptop and we could start furniture shopping a day early.”

He offered both options, but she could clearly see which one he clearly preferred. “Completely up to you.” He added.

She just pursed her lips at you. “I’m serious Jay, I think you’ve become addicted to shopping online. When you finally have to seek help for it, please don’t tell your therapist I enabled you by going along with it.” She conceded, and he cheered then jogged off to get his laptop.

 

As they shopped, they laughed and joked making the tension that had plagued the house all day dissipate into thin air. They spent the rest of the evening fighting over takeout boxes, and couches. Along with lamps, dishes, art, one collectible guitar (“Jay you do not need all three, Jimi Hendrix would be fine knowing you have just one of his guitars, he would NOT be disappointed in you dummy”), one authentic collectible dragon egg prop from HBO’s Game of Thrones (“B, what did you just tell me about not needing all three? I’m serious, Drogon will understand why Rhaegal and Viserion aren’t there. Besides, Dallas and the baby are the other two dragons, you can _still be_ The Mother of Dragons”), and lots of other things they knew they didn’t need but were enjoying each other too much to point out. 


	2. Day One: Bianca

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Jensen and Bianca have agreed to try and give it a week...now what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN' ANOTHA WUN.

**DAY ONE - BIANCA**

 

After agreeing to their seven day deal, Bianca grabbed her large duffle bag and moved into the bedroom four doors down from Dean’s, at the end of the long hallway near the showers. She figured the distance was far enough that she’d get the space she needed, and the close proximity to the bathroom was a plus. Morning sickness sucked ass.

She’d closed the door behind her and refused to leave the room after that, even though the smell of the frying burgers wafting from the kitchen made her feel like she was starving. Since she’d never admit the truth to herself, she reasoned that they both needed room to contemplate what they’d agreed to and not that she was scared to leave the room. But she knew deep down that she was afraid…she was afraid to be alone with him again, and to open herself up to him. There was no way for her mind to reconcile that welcoming him back into her life would result in nothing but pain. At least, not yet. So she hid out like the coward she was.

She watched movies on her laptop, willing herself to fall asleep. By the time she’d reached The Prisoner of Azkaban, she knew there was no way in hell she’d get rest any time soon. Figuring two in the morning was late enough for Dean to be asleep, she mustered up the courage to crack her door open.

Satisfied that the coast was clear, her bladder made itself known to her in a furious way. She went across the hall to relieve herself, and ventured towards Dean’s room after. Noting that his door was closed, no light shown from under it and no noise came from inside, she assumed she was safe.

First she ransacked the kitchen, finding the exact snack she didn’t know she was craving till she saw it. Dean’s honey barbeque potato chips. Perfect. She was halfway through the family sized bag when a noise caught her ear. She quieted and focused, hearing the repetitious sound again. Letting her curiosity get the better of her, she followed the noise into the garage. And what she found surprised her.

He hadn’t spotted her, but Dean was standing there in his boxers, thick white socks and a thin t-shirt. He stood in the middle of the large space on an indoor putting green placed in the center of floor with a putter in his hand. He’d lined up golf balls one by one, and was systematically tipping them towards the hole.

Since she had yet to be discovered she was able to observe him, and how hard he was concentrating. His jaw was clenched, his eyes were narrowed, and his brow was furrowed in a way that she’d only seen on his face a few times since she’d known him. One of those times being earlier, when he’d pitched the idea of them spending a week together. It was the look of a man that was focused on what he wanted.

After he’d tapped his final ball and went to retrieve it, she decided to make her presence known.

“I never knew you golfed.” She walked forward, arms closed around herself as she smirked.

Jensen looked up at the sound of her voice and if he was surprised by her arrival, his face didn’t show it. The tips of his ears tinged pink and he chose to look down at the putter in his hands rather than her eyes.

He just shrugged. “I know. As it turns out, I’m not half bad at it.”

“Really?” She asked, leaning against one of the classic cars parked about 10 feet away from him.

“Yeah, usually helps when I can’t fall asleep.” He said. “It’s funny because I used to hate mini golf.”

“You never told me that.” She replied, sensing a story there.

Jensen realized he was speaking about himself and not Dean, so he continued further. “Sammy used to make me take him when we were younger, and I would just try to pick up chicks the entire time. I learned pretty quickly that trying to impress them with my shitty short game wasn’t gonna cut it, so I had to get creative. Sneaking in beer worked pretty well after that.”

She laughed, shaking her head at him. “Now _that,_ I believe.”

“Kind of weird that I’m picking it up now, honestly.” He leaned against the car closest to him thoughtfully. While golfing was something he did on a regular basis in his own life, he hadn’t thought about it once during his time here until very recently.

“Why do you think that is?” She asked.

His eyes met hers, and he could tell she was genuinely curious about his new hobby. He was surprised by her sudden interest, and internally he was jumping for joy because they were actually holding a conversation like normal people. For once, she wasn’t running away from him. He had no idea what to expect after he’d pitched this week to her, and he certainly didn’t expect her to say yes. Ever since she’d left his room earlier he’d been riddled with anxiety, unsure of what to do next. He knew he wanted to talk to her, wanted to be around her, but he’d made himself promise to have patience. He’d thought making her favorite meal would entice her to join him, but his failed attempt at gaining her company had only served to make him more anxious. He’d wanted to just GO TO HER, but damn it, he knew it wasn’t the best move. He had to play this smart, or else he’d scare her off once and for all.

 So when he realized he wouldn’t be sleeping any time soon, he came in here. Little did he know that she would make her way here on her own. While he was somewhat suspicious of her sudden interest in his new hobby, he hoped it was coming from someplace real and she wasn’t making fun of him. He had the option of brushing the entire thing off like it was no big deal, but he realized that that was something the old Dean would do. Jensen was tired of being the old Dean. He didn’t care about being cool, he wanted to be honest.

“I think…so much of this life is hurry up and go, ya know? Everything moves so fast. Golf always seemed like something only normal people could do, I mean, what hunter do you know that has an entire afternoon to waste on the green right? Every day is driving somewhere, fighting something, or cooped up somewhere with your nose buried in a book. This though?” He gestured at the putting green with a fond smile. “You have no choice but to stop. You have to be still, concentrate on what you’re doing, and you don’t focus on anything else. I guess it’s my way of making everything else…stop. Or slow down, at least…”

He realized she hadn’t said anything since he confessed, but he was afraid he’d look up at her face and see her fighting laughter. When he finally did, he found her looking thoughtful instead.

“That makes sense, when you think about it.” She answered softly with a smile.

His ears burned red this time, and he cleared his throat to help rid himself of embarrassment.

“Can you show me?”

He looked shocked. “Really?” He asked.

“Yeah, I wanna learn.” She slowly walked over to stand face to face with him. When she finally stopped, she was close enough that Jensen could smell her shampoo and it drove him crazy. “I’m not an expert or anything,” He joked.

She just laughed. “Oh I know, but you’ll have to do until Tiger Woods gets here.” She smirked, grabbing the putter from his hand. When their skin made contact, she felt it like it was electric. If he felt anything, he didn’t let on.

He followed her over to the putting green, and they played together until the sun starting rising in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's short, and I'm sorry about it, but if you feel like both of these chapters are the author's way of lulling you into a false sense of security before pulling the rug out from under your feet...
> 
> NO COMMENT.
> 
> Hope you're still with me! And HOLY HELL, WHO WATCHED THE PREMIERE OF SEASON 13!?!?! 
> 
> To quote one of my favorite rappers, 
> 
> Jack is like a sprained ankle:
> 
> HE AIN'T NOTHING TO PLAY WITH.
> 
> That is all :)


	3. Day Two: Bianca

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Steps out from the wardrobe she disappeared into WEEKS ago*
> 
> Me: Hi.
> 
> *Runs back for the wardrobe but the hands of muse grab my ankles, dragging me back kicking and screaming.
> 
> Okay so it's been a while, but I'm back because this hit me like a freight train and BOY is it a doozy. Tissues, loves. 
> 
> I promise I will fix all the errors and stuff tomorrow, I was just really impatient and wanted to get it posted tonight. That's for hanging in there.

**DAY TWO: BIANCA**

Bianca woke the next day well before Jensen, craving French toast. When the smell wafting the kitchen didn’t wake him, she figured it was still too early for him to be up. She knew he had to be back at work the middle of next week, and from there on his schedule didn’t give him many breaks until the season was finished shooting. So he needed to rest as much as he could, while he still could. She’d planned to check her emails but couldn’t remember where she’d had her laptop last. Mom-brain really sucked sometimes.

She found it in the studio, and when she was finished she wondered how long it had been since she wrote a song. How long had it been since she recorded?

She snuck back into the bedroom to grab her songbook, careful not to wake Jay, and nearly ran back to the studio in excitement. She assumed she’d just pick up with where she left off, but what she found somewhat disappointed her. All the music she’d been working on last was so angry, so hurt.

Music had always been her outlet, so of course she’d thrown herself into it when she found out all those months ago.

She could have started something new, but unfinished lyrics really bugged her. She reread the lyrics over and over, trying to write next. She came up with the next line, and the following line too, along with the chorus, and the chords.

When Dean finally woke up he was surprised not to find her. He got dressed and was about to search the house for her, when he heard the muffled music coming from the studio. He walked in and found that she wasn’t alone. He saw her in the booth and a guy was sitting in front of the boards. Dean had no recollection of him at all, but assumed he must’ve been a producer.

Yet the man saw him and stood to shake his hand with a smile. “Jensen! How’s it been, man?” He asked brightly.

So he knows him, then. “Can’t complain,” Dean answered with a cautious smile. He was about to ask who the guy was, but Bianca cut him off.

“I’m ready when you are, Justin.” She said with a hand resting on her belly. Dean watched her through the glass wall of the booth, picking up on the fact that she hadn’t said anything to him yet.

She stood there in front of the mic barefoot in a t-shirt that read ‘Exhausted & Uncomfortable’ and her black maternity pants (the most comfortable thing she owned according to her), headphones on with her songbook in her hand. Under the slogan was a picture that the paparazzi had taken 3 weeks prior when she’d been in New York. She’d taken Dallas out for ice cream, and she was dressed in those black maternity pants, a black tank top, and an oversized jean jacket. She was wearing his Dallas Cowboys hat again and huge sunglasses, but it was clearly her, waddling around 7 months pregnant with Dallas holding her hand. Most people assumed she would hate it because the picture wasn’t staged or very flattering—she was obviously tired that day—but she embraced it like she’d done with everything else about this pregnancy. She thought it was so funny she had a t-shirt made.

She seemed to be getting a little impatient, so Justin took that as his cue. “Feel free to sit in, you know you’re always welcome here.” Justin said politely before sitting back down in front of the boards.

 _‘Damn straight I’m welcome here, it’s **my** house.’_ Dean thought to himself as he sat on one of the plush, dark couches in the back.

Justin clicked a few things on his laptop and reached over to turn some knob, and when he pressed a button the track started.

They must’ve been at this for a while because Bianca had already recorded some of the vocals, the harmonies playing over the speakers.

Dean watched her, _really_ watched her, as he’d never been able to witness her actually recording in the studio before. When he noted the serene look of concentration on her face, he was reminded of the look his own Bianca would get when she was researching their monster of the week. This was her at her best…she was in her element.

Her eyes stayed closed as she slightly swayed to the music, allowing it to take her to the emotional place she needed to be. The song was slow tempo, a little somber sounding, but not bad. He was just as hypnotized seeing her do this as he was watching her on stage. When it came time for her to sing, he was filled with anticipation.

 _“You can taste the dishonesty, it's all over your breath_  
As you pass it off so cavalier, but even that's a test  
Constantly aware of it all, my lonely ear  
Pressed against the walls of your world  
  
Pray to catch you whispering  
I pray you catch me listening  
I'm praying to catch you whispering  
I pray you catch me

 _I'm praying to catch you whispering_  
I pray you catch me listening  
I pray you catch me…”

Dean was floored by the honesty in her words and the emotion she sang them with. She was singing from somewhere deep, someplace real, and Dean felt his chest tighten when he listened to what she was saying. This was about him. What he’d done.

He felt his heart race when she finally opened her eyes and looked directly at him with a glare that would make a lion cower. She stared directly into his eyes, singing a little more forcefully than before.

 _“Nothing else ever seems to hurt like the smile on your face_  
When it's only in my memory, it don't hit me quite the same  
Maybe it's a cause for concern, but I'm not at ease  
Keeping my head to the curb  
  
Pray to catch you whispering  
I pray you catch me listening  
I pray to catch you whispering {whispering, whispering...}  
I pray you catch me {whispering, whispering...}  
I pray you catch me  
I pray you catch me (praying)  
I'm praying you catch me”

 

Dean’s jaw clenched as he felt her rip parts of him away piece by piece with every word she spoke, every note she sang. The anger she hid behind her eyes, the anger that still boiled inside her burned so hot that Dean could feel her fury from where he was sitting. He crossed his arms and clenched his jaw a little tighter, unwilling to look away.

“What are you doing, my love?” She whispered breathily, cutting her eyes at him.

She broke their staring contest and looked at Justin, giving him a slight nod that she was done. She took the headphones off and when she exited the booth, she didn’t pay Dean so much as a glance. She immediately went to Justin, signaling him for the playback. When she listened, she closed her eyes again allowing her to lose herself in the track.

“What do you think? Did you get the emotion you’d been looking for?” Justin asked as he listened.

She nodded. “Yeah, keep this one,” She looked at Dean over her shoulder. “I guess I found what was missing.” She said bitterly.

Dean sighed and rolled his neck. That one stung.

But Bianca, apparently, wasn’t done. “You know what, let’s work on that track we started a month ago…”

“Which one? We worked on a lot of stuff in New York.” Justin asked.

“Don’t Hurt Yourself.” She answered, already heading back to the booth.

“Really? B—” Justin asked, surprised, but she had already shut the door behind her. He pressed the button on the board so she could hear him talk. “Bianca, really? You sure you don’t wanna work on Freedom? That track is amazing. Or even 6 inch? Weeknd sent over his verse, I just have to—”

“We’re doing Don’t Hurt Yourself. It was always missing something, and I _think_ I just figured out what it was.” She said sternly, adjusting the headphones on her head.

Justin chanced one last look back at Dean before looking back at Bianca.

“Bianca—” He tried one last time.

“Ready when you are.” She said, ignoring him.

Justin sighed heavily while shaking his head. He loaded the track as she flipped through her book to find the lyrics for one final review.

Dean realized that whatever they were about to play, he was not going to like.

“Do you want me to let it play or take you in for the verse?”

“You can let it play.”

Justin nodded and started the track.

Like before, she closed her eyes and allowed the music to wash over her. She bobbed her head to the music as she tied her hair back, and it reminded Dean of a boxer warming up.

_“Don't hurt yourself  
Don't hurt yourself”_

She sang with her eyes closed, but as soon as the music cued her in her eyes popped open and found him again, this time burning with more rage than before. She wasn’t singing, so much as she was nearly growling, her words yelling taunts directly at him and Dean was instantly transported back to the night she confronted him about the affair.

 _“Who the fuck do you think I is?_  
You ain't married to no average bitch boy  
You can watch my fat ass twist boy  
As I bounce to the next dick boy  
And keep your money, I got my own  
Keep a bigger smile on my face, being alone  
Bad motherfucker, God complex  
Motivate your ass, call me Malcom X”

Dean thought back to conversation they had one of the first months he got here, and she’d stood in the back of one of their panel in Hall H at Comic Con. After she met him backstage she joked about how her ears were still ringing because his fans screamed louder than hers did, and that they saw him as a god. He laughed it off and told her he hoped they only saw him as a person. He’d hoped she truly believed him when he told her that but apparently after everything that happened, that wasn’t the case.

 __  
“Yo operator, or innovator  
Fuck you hater, you can't recreate her no  
You'll never recreate her no, hero

 _We just got to let it be_  
Let it be, let it be, let it be baby  
You just got to let it be  
Let it be, let it be, let it be”

 

The track continued as a guy sang the chorus, the lyrics he screamed echoing through Dean’s ears.

 _“When you hurt me, you hurt yourself_  
Don't hurt yourself  
When you diss me, you diss yourself  
Don't hurt yourself  
When you hurt me, you hurt yourself  
Don't hurt yourself, don't hurt yourself  
When you love me, you love yourself  
Love God herself”

The words felt like they burned him, and Dean had to remind himself that he _wasn’t the one who **actually** cheated on her._

 

 _“I am the dragon breathing fire_  
Beautiful mane I'm the lion  
Beautiful man I know you're lying  
I am not broken, I'm not crying, I'm not crying  
You ain't trying hard enough  
You ain't loving hard enough  
You don't love me deep enough  
We not reaching peaks enough”

Dean thought about all the voicemails he left her, all the text messages and emails he sent, **ALL** the different ways he’d reached out to her to apologize and she just _ignored_ him. She was singing all of this at him, screaming all of this at him, and it made him angry all over again. Why he was angry could be attributed to many factors, mostly because he was ashamed and felt guilty, but this was her blatantly throwing it all in his face and insulting him about it. She was trying to humiliate him, and logically he knew she was just lashing out because she wanted to make him feel the pain she felt because deep down she didn’t mean it, but right now he wasn’t thinking rationally enough for that type of logic.

She was taunting him, goading him, mocking him to his face getting under his skin the worst possible way to get a rise out of him and it was working.

  
_“Blindly in love, I fucks with you_  
'Til I realize, I'm just too much for you  
I'm just too much for you”

She wanted him to suffer as he’d made her suffer. The first time they’d fought sure, she was angry, but she was also hurting because the wounds were so fresh. There were more tears than screams. Now, not only was she still angry but she’d allowed it to stew while she bottled it up inside her. It made its reappearance her attitude—the way she threw her hair, rolled her neck, rolled her eyes, and snapped at him with as much venom as a lethal snakebite. This vicious side of her was the closest she’d ever acted to the Bianca he knew.  


_“You just got to let it be  
Let it be, let it be, let it be baby_

_Hey baby, who the fuck do you think I am?_  
I smell that fragrance on your Louis Knit boy  
Just give my fat ass a big kiss boy  
Tonight I'm fucking up all your shit boy”

Now that she was downright screaming so hard it was straining her voice, he knew that she was trying to provoke him. She wanted him to react. She wanted his attention, and god damn it, she got it.

The chorus came back around and this time when the guy in song sang, she screamed her words back. She gestured with her hands as she often did when she was highly upset to accentuate her words and her point. This no longer felt like a recording session, because she was acting like he was standing directly in front of her face arguing and they were having a shouting match.

_Him: When you hurt me…_

_Bianca: YOU HURT YOURSELF…TRY NOT TO HURT YOURSELF._

_Him: When you play me…_

_Bianca: “YOU PLAY YOURSELF. UGH! DON’T PLAY YOURSELF._

_HIM: When you lie to me!_

_Bianca: YOU LIE TO YOURSELF. YOU ONLY LYING TO YOURSELF._

_Him: When you love me…_

_Bianca: YOU LOVE YOURSELF...LOVE GOD HERSELF._

Dean’s not sure when he stood, but he now found himself standing so close to the booth door his nose was nearly pressed against the glass. The smug smile she wore as she recorded like she’d been playing some game and he’d just lost only served to make him more furious.

 _“UGH, THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING!_  
YOU KNOW I GIVE YOU LIFE.  
IF YOU TRY THIS SHIT AGAIN…  
YOU GON LOSE YOUR WIFE!”

 

That line. That last line. Those were the words she said to him when she finally took him back. She was…she had just acted passive aggressive when she had said them to him. This whole time she’d been pretending like she was fine, like _they_ were fine and **_everything_** was fine, but all the while she’d been feeling all of this. Maybe she’d been trying to be fine, she was trying to move past it by faking the truth until it became the truth but it clearly hadn’t worked. And this was the final straw.

She took the headphones off and threw them down, grabbing her phone and heading for the door. When she yanked it open, Dean didn’t move. She looked up at his face to find him wearing a tight smile, and since she knew her husband so well she saw through it like a piece of glass.

“So you’re clearly upset.” Dean stated the obvious.

“Move.” She growled, and he stepped to the side to let her through.

Justin was packing up and headed for the door. “Call me later, B.” He said over his shoulder as he left, just wanting to get back to his own wife at the hotel and away from the storm clearly brewing here.

Bianca didn’t even acknowledge his departure, she just sat down in his seat and started messing with the boards.

Dean, seeing that she was giving him the silent treatment, rolled over another chair so he could sit next to her. He saw her track his movements out the corner of her eye and the most she did to acknowledge him was sigh in annoyance. She started the playback and turned the speakers up as loud as they would go so they were blaring.

Dean reached forward, and turned the speakers back down.

“ _Watch my fat ass twist as I bounce to the next dick boy_ …wow…it’d really be that easy for you to leave, huh?” He teased.

“AND WHY THE FUCK NOT, HUH? YOU DID!” She yelled in his face, daring him to say something back. Dean just grinded his teeth as he exhaled through his nose in an attempt to control his breathing and his rage.

She marched over to the wine fridge she had built into the coffee table and took out a bottle of her favorite red with a glass. She expertly popped the cork within seconds and was filling the glass.

“Bianca what the hell are you doing drinking? You can’t—” Dean yelled.

“I’m not drinking shit! Not that I need to explain shit to you because I’M A GROWN ASS WOMAN but like holding the glass and smelling it, it helps me calm down.”

“Like hell you don’t have to explain yourself! You’re carrying my baby!”

“Maybe.” She said slyly before bringing the glass up to her face to inhale the aroma.

“What was that?” Dean asked, unsure he’d heard her correctly.

She sighed, before shrugging her shoulders casually. “I said, _maybe_.”

Dean slowly started walking towards her, his fists balled and the vein in his neck popping dangerously. “I’m sorry, you wanna run that by me again? WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN, **_MAYBE_**.”

She rolled her eyes as if he was being particularly dense. “It means _exactly_ what the word implies, Jay: _Maybe_ I’m carrying your baby.”

“AND WHY ON GOD’S GREEN FUCKING EARTH WOULD IT NOT BE MY BABY?” He screamed in her face, close enough to be toe to toe with her, yet she seemed completely unfazed.

She inhaled another whiff off her glass and shrugged again. “With the timing I got pregnant, well, I guess it’s _possible_ the baby could be someone else’s. We’ll find out in about a month though, right?” She smirked at him and jumped when he slapped the wine glass out of her hand, clear across the room.

She backed away as he stalked towards her, finding her back pressed against the door. He got right in her face and though the murderous look in his eye legitimately scared her, she fought hard not to show it.

“ **WHO**. **IS**. **HE**.” Dean growled at her through his teeth, and she just started into his eyes with a cold look. “It would be just what you deserve, wouldn’t it…” She spoke severely. “To realize that another man touched your wife…kissed her lips…put his hands all over her skin…touched her in the most intimate of places…”

Dean’s top lip was trembling, and the rest of him was practically vibrating in outrage with every word she whispered but she didn’t stop. He was heaving like a bull as she looked down her nose at him.

“To know that somebody that wasn’t you made love to your wife…whispered in her ear as she wrapped her legs to pull him in…looked her deep in the eye as he painted her with his seed. That another man planted the seed growing inside her that you thought it was yours.”

Dean screamed in her face at the top of his lungs before turning around and tossing over the heavy cedar coffee table, breaking all the glass she had inside it. He picked up one of the chairs and threw it at the glass of the booth, shattering the glass. Then he threw open the door to the studio and marched out of it.

Bianca followed behind him.

“YOU ARE SUCH A HYPOCRITE, YOU KNOW THAT!” She screamed at the back of his head, but he didn’t slow down. He stomped on a warpath all the way through the large house. As soon as he hit the kitchen she knew he was headed for the garage, and subsequently his car.

She stopped to lean against the island counter to catch her breath, so much had transpired today. “So you mean to tell me that it’s okay for you to fuck another woman behind my back for a year, but if I fuck another guy it’s wrong!?!?”

Dean actually stopped at that and turned on her so fast she nearly stumbled backward. “NO B, I NEVER SAID IT WAS OK! IT’S NOT! IT IS _NEVER_ OKAY TO CHEAT ON YOUR FUCKING SPOUSE AND I EVERYDAY I REGRET IT! HELL, I REGRETTED IT WHILE IT WAS HAPPENING! I REGRETTED EVERY FUCKING I SPENT WITH HER, BUT I DID IT ANYWAYS BECAUSE I WAS TOO STUPID TO MAN THE FUCK UP AND JUST TALK TO YOU ABOUT HOW I WAS FEELING.”

She started to slow clap sarcastically. “Well you did a bang-up job there, Ackles. Now you’re leaving too? Go ahead, give me more to write about. I’ll be just like Taylor Swift. THE ALBUM SHOULD BE DONE BY THE TIME THE DIVORCE IS FINAL!”

“Album? Bianca, you can’t release those songs!” He threatened.

“Why, afraid the whole world will see you for what you really are? News flash, Jay, I have 6 more of those songs already recorded!”

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “WOULD YOU STOP THINKING ABOUT YOURSELF FOR ONE DAMN MINUTE!?! IF YOU RELEASE THOSE SONGS, THE ENTIRE WORLD WILL KNOW WHAT HAPPENED. EVERYONE WILL KNOW WHAT I DID TO YOU.” He warned.

“I’VE HAD ENOUGH TIME TO COME TO TERMS WITH WHAT YOU DID TO ME JAY, AND NOW IT’S TIME FOR ME TO HEAL. _THIS_ IS HOW I HEAL, MUSIC HAS _ALWAYS_ HELPED ME COPE WITH WHAT’S GOING ON IN MY LIFE.”

“WHAT ABOUT DALLAS, HUH?”

That stopped Bianca cold in her tracks.

Dean, seeing that he was getting through to her just a little, calmed down just a tad. “What about Dallas, huh? What about the baby? What happens later on down the line, when they listen to the album? What happens when they go to school and their friends bring up what they heard their parents say? What about when they get _older_ , and they _Google_ all of this fucking shit! Did you even think about that?!?!”

Bianca was speechless for a few moments.  “Those were always going to be conversations we had with them at home as a family…we agreed to never keep anything from our kids…but Jensen…my music is who I am. If I’m not singing my truth, I’m not being true to myself.” She said soberly.

Tears finally fell down Dean’s face. “You know I lose sleep every night over the fact that one day I’m going to have to look my daughter, my _baby girl_ in the eye and tell her that I broke her mommy’s heart. My heart breaks for the day I have to admit all my mistakes to her…to them. I wanna die from the shame of just thinking about it.” He wiped his tears away roughly, willing himself to regain control over his emotions. “That’s gonna the day she doesn’t think I’m her hero anymore. The moment she realizes that it was the music about what _I_ did to you that kept them in private schools.”

He chuckled, but the sound was bitter. “The day some other guy is playing with my kids in the backyard. The day I become the guy that just picks them up on the weekends and every other major holiday. I’ll be text message, a voicemail, or a video chat, but I won’t be there. Not really. Not in the way it counts.”

Bianca bit her lip as her own tears fell. “You only have yourself to blame.”

He scoffed at that and looked skyward. “Trust me, I know. Bianca…the way I was raised, a man put food on the table, clothes on his kids’ backs, a roof over his wife’s head, and took care of his family. He was the provider. That’s the way I was brought up. If you weren’t taking care of your responsibilities, you weren’t a man. Plain and simple. But the moment you realize that your wife has made Forbes’ list three years running…”

He sighed deeply, resting his hands on his hips as his shaking head hung low. Of course he had no way of knowing why Jensen Ackles _really_ cheated, but the issue of money had been on mind for quite some time and apparently it bothered him more than he thought.

Her eyes were watery. “So that’s why you did it…” She said softly.

“No, that’s,” He sighed again and ran a hand down his face, growing more and more frustrated. “I did it because I was a coward. I did it because I didn’t like feeling inferior, when what I should’ve been feeling was fucking proud. B, I am proud as all of you, I really am. I just needed to get over my own damn pride.” Dean said, the last part more to himself than her. “You were right. I do deserve this…” He shook his head again and swallowed roughly, his voice thick with tears.

“The baby’s not mine, and I have no right to be upset about that. And it shouldn’t matter, it’s not like I love it any less…”

“I lied.”

He looked up at her.

“About the baby not being yours? It was a lie, I just…I just wanted to make you mad, I don’t know. To see you react, to make you feel what I felt…I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry. It was childish, and I’m ashamed.” She was full on crying now, her head down on the counter as she sobbed.

Dean went over to hug her, and she immediately clung to him sobbing into his chest.

When she finally calmed down, she pulled him into the living room. The blankets from last night were still there so she gestured for him to sit down and went into the dining room to grab something. When she came back she was holding one of Dallas’ kickballs, and Dean was rightfully confused.

She sat down directly across from him, and looked him in the eyes.

“I did a lot of research when I was away, and I want to try something. It’s basically a therapy exercise, but Dallas told me they do it at her school too.”

“We’re about to play a preschool game?”

“Shut up, we’re just going to take a few rules from her game.” Bianca looked around, and at the small distance between the two of them. “It’s not far enough. Go stand against that wall, and I’ll go stand against this one.”

He helped her get up and did as she said, turning around to face her. When she turned back to face him, she took a deep breath. “Okay, this is going to feel really silly, then it starts to feel really uncomfortable. But I think it’s necessary, and it’s going to help. But only if we take it seriously.”

Dean sighed, still not getting it, but nodded along anyway. “Whatever it takes.”

She smiled a little at that. “Good. Now take off your clothes.”

He paused, looking down at what was essentially a dodgeball in her hands. “Is this some sort of kinky dodgeball?”

“Just do it,” She rolled her eyes, putting the ball down to remove her own clothes.

He huffed. “They better not be playing this at her friggin’ school…”

“The naked part isn’t from the children’s game, dummy.” She stated the obvious as she slid down the wall to sit on the floor. He did the same.

“Right. So the rules are simple. We toss the ball back and forth, and whoever holds the ball has the floor. The other person can’t interrupt. We also can’t start a sentence with the word ‘You’. We basically can’t accuse each other of shit, because the point is to have an open conversation about what we really feel. We can only start our sentences with the word ‘I’. I feel, I think, so on.”

“And we have to be naked because…”

“I added that part. If we’re naked, it feels like we have nothing to hide.” She said with a smirk.

“Wonderful.” He said sarcastically. Dean really hated therapy, he thought all of it was crap.

“This is never going to work if you don’t take it seriously…”

He sighed. “I do, I do, I’m sorry. My ass is just freezing.” She didn’t believe him because she started trying to get up. “Look, I mean it. I’m going to take it seriously. I’ll even start.”

She stopped, and regarded him with suspicion. After a few seconds, she relaxed again. “Intimacy. Honesty. Commitment. Trust. That is what we’re going to take away from this today. We’re putting everything out there, all cards on the table. We are not leaving this room until the air is cleared, Jensen.”

He nodded and held his hands up for the ball. She throws it but it honestly wasn’t a great throw, he had to wait for the ball to roll closer to him. “Do we have to sit so far away?”

“I wanted us to have to work to give the floor to each other, makes it feel more like we really want the other person to speak and hear what they have to say.”

Dean nodded and chose wisely not to comment on it. He sat the ball in his lap and then looked down at it. “Well Dallas is never touching this ball again.”

She laughed, and patiently waited for him to speak.

“I feel…” He started, but trailed off. Minutes passed, and Bianca was certain he wasn’t going to say anything until she heard him speak. “I feel like I know now I wasn’t ready for marriage. Not like I thought I was. I knew I wanted to marry you, that I want to spend the rest of my life with you…but I know now that I wasn’t mature enough to handle it.” Dean spoke from the heart, and even though he wasn’t actually there he felt like it still applied.

She looked stunned. Of all the things she expected him to confess, that wasn’t one of them. He tossed her the ball perfectly and she caught it.

“I feel like on some level I knew that. I knew that you weren’t ready, and even though you told me you were, I could see it in your eyes that you were really scared. But I was scared too, I mean, we were pretty young, and I thought everybody got scared before they get married. It’s a huge commitment. But I was afraid I would lose you, so I went through with it. Even though my intuition told me it was too soon.”

She threw the ball back, well enough he caught it this time.

“I feel liked you matured faster than me, you always did. When we got married, when we found out about Dallas…you were always the strong one. I’ve always acted like a teenage asshole in our relationship, I never grew up.”

He tossed it back.

She bit her bottom lip as she tossed the ball between her hands. “When I found out I was pregnant with Dallas, I almost didn’t tell you. I thought about getting an abortion.”

Dean was speechless. He hadn’t expected that.

“We’d just gotten married, and we were still in the honeymoon phase ya know, everything was so good, and we were so happy. I thought a baby would just ruin it all. I knew how scared you were at the wedding, and I was afraid you’d run. That you’d leave, and I would be left by myself to raise her alone. I never told you that before. Obviously, I’m glad I didn’t, and I regret ever considering it.”

She threw the ball back, and she sighed with relief.

He felt like he wanted to comment on that, that he _should_ comment, but he couldn’t while they were playing the game. So instead, he chose to bring it up later.

He thought long and hard about his next confession. “I realized that nobody wins when the family feuds.”

She tilted her head, a little confused.

“It means that if things aren’t good at home, then they’re not really good anywhere else in your life.” He said honestly, realizing how much this was true about his real life with Sam and Castiel. “You could have everything in the world you ever wanted—money, dream job, big house, nice car—but a man that don’t take care of his family can’t be rich. Not really. Nothing good comes from strive within the family. It’s stupid when I think about it now, The Godfather’s one of my favorite movies. I’ve watched it a million times and I missed that whole shit.”

He tossed the ball back.

She considered his confession. It was obviously a hard life lesson he had to learn, but it was clear to her that it meant he was maturing.

“When you first asked me out, I thought you were making fun of me. Everyone knew I was a huge fan of the show, and even though a lot of people still didn’t know about me back then, I’d been pretty vocal about how badly I wanted to meet you guys. I honestly thought you were pranking me like you did everyone else who came on. And truthfully, _IhadacrushonJared_.”

She rushed out the last part, throwing the ball back to him.

He caught it, but wasn’t going to let what she said go. “Wait, _what_? You had a crush on _Jared!?!?”_

She looked like a deer caught in headlights, every muscle of her body taut like she’d been caught red handed. He knew, because he could _see_ it.

“Jay I’d really like to respect your time with the ball and give you the opportunity to speak. It’s your turn, the floor is yours.” She said diplomatically.

He squeezed the ball, almost enough to bust it he held back. “We’re discussing that _later_.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. She watched the way his chest rose and fell, the way the muscles over his abdomen contracted, and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.

He sat there silently for a while, and finally she couldn’t take it anymore. “Well?”

He opened his eyes to glare at her. “Do you want me to play the game, or do you want me to go murder Jared? I can’t do both!”

She pursed her lips at him, and crossed her arms in wait.

He blew out a huge breath, and then looked up at her. “I think it was thinking about Dallas that made me realize how awful what I was doing was. Made me realize that I gotta do better. I realize that when we were dating, hell even after we were married I still didn’t treat women as well as I should. It took for my daughter to be born for me to truly start seeing through a woman’s eyes. I thought about how I would feel if I found out somebody she had fallen in love with was doing to her what I was doing to you…I couldn’t stand it. Having a daughter makes a man realize he has get softer and take off that armor he’s been wearing all his life when he’s with her. The way I treated you, the way I let my daughter down…hell even the way I treated Cindy was disgusting. She wasn’t innocent by any means, she knew I was married, but I still treated her like an object and manipulated her. Just because I could. To get her to do what I wanted her to do. That was cruel and I’m ashamed.”

He tossed the ball again, and tried to discreetly wipe his eyes again. But she saw it, she could see everything. No clothes, nowhere to hide.

“I feel like no matter what I do, I will always blame myself for what happened in some way…” She confessed, tearing up herself. “No matter how many different ways I try to rationalize it, I always arrive at two facts: a marriage takes two, so whatever drove you to do it involves my actions or inactions in some form.  The other is that it went on for an entire year, and I knew nothing about it. I question if I couldn’t see it because the signs weren’t there, or if they were there and I just ignored them.”

She wiped away her own tears, and Dean had to fight the urge to go to her. But no matter what he said he would try, so he didn’t want to ruin her game.

“I promise to protect you.” He confessed, without holding the ball. She looked up at him.

“I promise to protect your heart and never let it get broken like this again. Never from me, _especially_ from me. I promise that, God forbid, if I ever think about fucking up so royally again one day…I’m going to set you free before I do it. It’s never going to come to that, _ever_ …but if it does…I won’t be putting you or our kids through this. I know you probably don’t wanna hear me apologize again B, so I won’t. But I need you to know that **I**. **Am**. **Sorry**. And that I love you. And I that I am more afraid of losing you than I am of dying. That’s the honest to God truth.”

She didn’t know what to say. This time as she cried, the tears fell freely.

“God damn it, these pregnancy hormones.” She said and they both laughed, breaking the tension. “This got heavy fast, and I wanna end on a happy note.”

Dean cleaned his face and sighed heavily. “I couldn’t agree with you more.”

She tossed the ball back and forth between her hands again. “I think if I had ended up marrying Jared, I still would’ve pictured you during sex.”

She tossed the ball and he caught it.

“I think what you meant to say was that it would’ve been an affectionless marriage, and there would have been no skin contact at all. Please don’t make me picture you having sex with Jared if you’d like him to keep breathing.”

He tossed the ball back, and the game soon just devolved into a game of catch as they talked.

“Would you rather I think about Stephen?” She asked skeptically as she tossed it to him.

“What is _with_ you?” He whined, making her laugh.

“Jay come on, you know I have a thing for guys that play superheroes.”

Dean gritted his teeth, a little mad. “Dean Winchester _is_ a superhero. He’s like Batman. No fuck that, he _is_ Batman.” He said petulantly.

“Damn straight.” She said, and he felt a little about it.

“Any _other things_ you have that I may have made myself forget for my own sanity?”

She blushed when she caught the ball and looked down at her belly, refusing to meet his eyes. “That I have a pregnancy kink.” She said it so softly, he almost didn’t hear her.

“And what does that mean?”

She rolled her eyes, hating that she’d have to explain it. “Like…like, _during_ sex, you telling me how sexy I look being pregnant, how you love having sex when I’m pregnant, how you love _getting_ me pregnant, you want me to have your kids…that kind of stuff. Not to mention that pregnant sex is exhausting, but extremely satisfying because I’m so much more sensitive right now. Seriously, I orgasm for like, no reason.”

She smirked and when she looked up, she saw his dick twitch in his lap. He wasn’t at full mast, but he was getting there.

Dean felt like his brain had short circuited. She’d never told him that. He was sure she’d never told him that because if she had, it would NOT have been something he forgot. All of it, every single word she said was true.

He threw the ball up in the air, and ran over to scoop her in his arms to carry her upstairs. She laughed the entire way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this helped with some plot perspective, and I apologize for the heavy song lyrics usage. But I did tell you elements of 4:44 were coming. I own nothing, Beyonce & Jay-Z own all.
> 
> This is a Lemonade fic after all. ;)
> 
> Please leave comments, they fuel me like gatoride.

**Author's Note:**

> Are you there, Chuck? It's me, the Author. I ask that you please pray over Dean and Bianca, and Jensen and Bianca, because they are not prepared for the emotional war headed their way. Please give them strength.
> 
> In your name we pray, Amen.


End file.
